


One Day

by beforeclocks



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:16:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beforeclocks/pseuds/beforeclocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince spends an entire day struggling with his feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vince

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I wrote way back in 2008. I'm just posting all of my old fics onto here so that everything can be kept in the same place, neat and tidy

**1 AM**  
I wake a lot earlier than usual, completely hung over but very awake. Howard’s snoring softly across the room as I pad past, careful not to wake him. The flat’s cold so I flick the heating on, standing by one of the radiators to warm my feet, considering going back for socks, but I decide against it. I don’t want to wake Howard. The kettle seems extra loud this morning and I’m worried that it’ll wake someone, but it doesn’t. I’m the only person crazy enough to be awake. I’m completely alone in the flat. 

**2 AM**   
There’s nothing but old reruns of shows no one’s every heard of on the television. I switch it off and the darkness surrounds me. The lights are left off; I’m always worried someone’ll see it and wake up. The CD rack’s looking cluttered so I crawl over and sort it out, everything alphabetical. They say that when you start putting every thing in alphabetical order, it means your going insane. I probably am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t live in a tidy, organised house. 

**3 AM**   
There’s nothing left to tidy now, and I feel more alone than ever. The flat’s cosily warm now, but I still feel chills. I always do. The couch is soft beneath me, and I almost want to thank it for supporting my weight all the time, without ever complaining. But I don’t, I just let it do its job, and fester over time. 

**4 AM**   
The air tastes salty, blowing through my hair and running between my fingers. There’s sand between my toes; I can feel the individual grains. I can only assume I’m on the beach again, the one where, whichever way I look, all I can see is the black water. Sometimes shapes float beneath it, but they never come close enough so I can reach them. Sometime they’re human shaped, but they look far too skinny to be real. Other times I can’t even guess at what they are, they shapes are far too warped, all twisted in on them selves. It’s always the same, I’m always alone, It’s never a nightmare, but far too real to be a dream. 

**5 AM**   
I can hear the water in the pipes gurgling away happily when I wake. There’s a blanket around me, so that means Howard’s been up. But he isn’t now; he’s probably gone back to bed. There’s a hot chocolate on the coffee table, and it’s still warm, cooled to just the right temperature, so Howard might still be awake. I almost go and find him, but I decide not to when I realise I’d have nothing to say to him when I got there. Maybe climb in bed with him like we used to? But whenever I think about doing that I get the sinking feeling that he might say no. Thing’s aren’t the same as they used to be. 

**6 AM**   
I’ve listened to the water click on and off repeatedly, keeping itself at the right temperature. After all it’s hard work I might as well take a shower. The water feels soothing against my skin, like a massage on my shoulders. The shampoo bubbles in my hair and the gel coats my skin, refreshing it. The steaming water heats the whole room, so when I step out you can almost see the heat hanging in the air. My towel has been warming on the radiator and it wraps my body in warmth I never thought possible. 

**7 AM**   
I let the straightener’s heat up while I dry my hair. I no longer care about waking anyone up. I heard Howard shuffling around the bedroom anyway, and Naboo always sleeps through anything. I spend far longer on my face than any man should, but it’s nothing compared to the care I put into my hair. I don’t even know why I do it anymore, it’s just a habit; it doesn’t make me feel happy, just even emptier. 

**8 AM**   
Howard’s not in the bedroom when I enter still wrapped in my towel. He’s probably making breakfast, like always, still in his pyjamas, with his dressing gown on, because that’s missing from the back of the door. The dressing gown is my favourite thing in our room, which is strange because it’s not even mine. Without it the back of the door looks bare, and the room looks incomplete. The strong Howard-y smell still lingers, but weaker without the gown, and I let it fill my nostrils, subconsciously sitting on the edge of his bed. I squirm up towards his pillow, wrapping the sheets around my legs and torso, letting them pool beside me. 

**9 AM**   
I pull out close to twenty different outfits, but I don’t want to wear any of them. I stand there with a pair of drainpipes in one hand and a boot in the other. They would go well together, but I’m just not in the mood. Eventually though, because I have no other choice, I put them on, but then I have to choice a shirt. All of mine look so small and thin, I can’t bear to put them on when it’s so cold outside. Not that I’m going out, but I wish I had more suitable clothes. There’s a shirt sticking out of Howard’s cupboard so I put that on, not really thinking about what anyone will say. 

**10 AM**   
Howard stares at me like I’m crazy when I enter the kitchen. He actually drops the ladle, so I watch that fall to the floor, instead of looking at him. 

‘Vince?’ 

As though it could be anyone else. I look up at him now, nervously, actually worried that he might tell me to take the shirt off. But he doesn’t. He ignores it, hands me a cup of tea and a plate of bacon and eggs. I won’t eat them, but the gesture is nice, so I take them anyway. We sit at the table together, neither of us saying anything, but Howard keeps looking at me out of the corner of his eye, so I know something’s up. I am wearing his shirt, but that shouldn’t bother him so much. Does he really think I hate all his clothes? Am I that mean to him? 

**11 AM**   
I almost wish it wasn’t a Saturday, because then there wouldn’t be this uncomfortable silence between us. We’ve got nothing to distract our selves. There’s even less on the television that there was in the morning. I just want him to talk to me, not keep giving me sideways glances. 

**12 PM**   
He offers me lunch, but I shake my head. He looks as though he might argue with me, but stops himself. I’m not sure when food became such a touchy subject, but it defiantly is. He thinks I don’t eat enough and that he eats too much. I don’t know where he got that idea from, but it’s defiantly what he thinks because I’ve seen him playing with his food and tipping half of it in the bin, even when he can’t have eaten enough. I hope it isn’t something I said, but it probably is. 

**1 PM**   
I haven’t said anything for hours and it feels like my throat has closed. He keeps trying to make conversation, but I just don’t seem able to return it. We sit in silence again. 

**2 PM**   
Casablanca is showing on the television, so Howard makes some popcorn and we watch it. Still in silence, but it’s a more comfortable silence, because this is my favourite film and Howard knows not to disturb me. 

**3 PM**   
The film is still playing, we still haven’t exchanged a word, but we’ve moved closer together. I’m not sure when or how, but I can feel his heat radiating into me. It feels nice, and I’m not going to move away anytime soon. 

**4 PM**   
The screen is blank now. The uncomfortable silence is back and I can’t stand it. It’s time to say something, but I don’t know what. 

‘Howard…’ 

‘Yes little man?’ 

My heart flips. So long it’s been, I’d almost forgotten. I can’t remember what I was going to say at any rate, but the silence has gone. It’s still quiet but it’s not pressing down on us anymore. We could say anything we liked, but we don’t. At least we’re comfortable in each others presence, and that, for now, will do me just fine. 

**5 PM**   
I hadn’t noticed that Naboo and Bollo weren’t around until they came through the door. I looked up from the Monopoly board that I was playing with Howard, to greet them. Naboo nodded and headed straight into his room, looking tired. Bollo says hello and then starts depositing shopping in the cupboards. We continue with our game, which I’m winning, and Bollo finishes and leaves. I soon tire, and I can tell Howard has as well. We both agree we’ve had enough, that I won and it’s time to do something different. While Howard puts the game away – I feel I should help, but it might just give him a heart attack – I leave the room, quietly and climb up onto the roof. 

**6 PM**   
Most people would think it’s odd that Howard and I are hardly talking; only saying a few words at a time, but all I can think is at least we’re not fighting. I hear someone moving beneath me, but no one knows I’m up here, so I don’t worry. I want to be alone, but at the same time I wish Howard would sit here with me. We once sat up here before. Not the time at his party, that didn’t count, but before, just after we’d moved in with Naboo. It was summer then, still light even though it was about half nine. That was back when we were happy, and friendly. Before all the insults. 

**7 PM**   
The door to the roof swings open, and it’s Howard’s head that comes through. 

‘Can I join you?’ 

I can’t refuse him, and besides, it’s just what I wanted. He sighs as he settles next to me, closer than when we were on the couch, but I’m not complaining. 

‘You look cold. Here.’ 

And he takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I instantly warm, and a wave of gratitude flows through me. I want to show I’m grateful, but I don’t know how. I don’t want to hurt him accidentally. 

‘Th-thank you.’ 

My voice sounds so different than usual, and I know it’s not the cold. Howard shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. 

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ 

He’s looking across the rooftops, to where the sun is just finished setting. 

‘Yeah, it is.’ 

It hurts me to know this is the most we’ve communicated for a while. But the fact that he’s here, with me, holding me so close is like magic on its own. I feel whole again. I feel complete. I feel loved. 

**8 PM**   
The cold gets too much, so we take one last look at the city before slipping back inside. For some reason, even though it’s still early, we both feel tired. Howard goes back into the kitchen, and I go to the bathroom. My make up only take a few minutes to remove, but then I have a whole pre bed ritual. Moisturising and things. Howard doesn’t understand it, but he’s never once commented about it. He just accepts that it’s what I do. I can hear him hovering outside the door, unsure whether he’s allowed in. The doors not locked. 

‘You can come in.’ 

I can almost feel him jump, he thought he was quiet and inconspicuous, but I can tell when he’s near anyway. The door creaks open agonisingly slowly, and his head pokes through the gap. He relaxes when he sees I’m just standing at the sink, and moves into the room. We both reach for our toothbrushes at the same time, and our knuckles brush together. I know I should pull my hand away quickly, but I don’t. I’m savouring the touch. Plus, if I react too quickly, he’ll know something’s going on, and I can’t afford for that too happen. Not when our friendship is finally coming back. 

**9 PM**   
I’m in bed by the time he joins me in the bedroom. Unexpectedly he’s brought with him a mu of warm milk, for me. He doesn’t say anything when he puts the cup on my bedside table, but I offer him a small smile, and he does return it. Once we’re both in bed the lights go off, and I face my wall, and Howard faces his. I feel as though it should be different tonight, after today, but it isn’t. 

**10 PM**   
I’m on the beach again, but this time it’s not sand beneath my feet, its gravel. Cold, hard, sharp gravel. I can see a figure under the water, and it comes so close that I almost reach out and grab it, but at the last minute it moves away, and all is lost. I pierce the underside of my feet every time I move, so all I can do is stay still and wait that someone rescues me. Hope that they show up. After all, I have forever to wait. 

**11 PM**   
Another dream, but this one is considerably different, it’s one that I’ve never had before. I’m running through corridors, me feet pounding on rough carpet. Someone is running, chasing, after me. My heart is beating in my ears, the blood pounding around my body. The breath is catching in my mouth, and I can’t suck in air. I fall to the floor, curling into a ball in instinct. The runner approaches, slowing down until they’re standing over me. And I don’t want to, but a force is making me do it, I roll over and look up at the person. They lean over to meet me, and we’re so close I can feel his breath on my face. I’m not breathing now, I can’t. Because Howard’s standing over me with a knife, and I’m going to die. It’s agony as the knife plunges in, blood covering it’s blade. I scream out, unable to take the pain. But before the world fades I manage to whisper final words. 

‘I love you…’ 

**12 AM**   
I wake up panting, sweat dripping from every pour. My breathing is ragged, as I feel me stomach, checking for a knife wound. For a moment I think I feel blood, but then realise it is only the thin material of my sheets beneath my fingers. 

‘Vince?’ 

It is a different question that this morning. He is concerned, worried, but I can’t answer, I haven’t got enough energy. I hear the thud as he gets out of bed and his feet hit the floor. For a moment I am terrified, but then I remember it’s only a dream, and that Howard doesn’t want to hurt me. Will never hurt me, as long as I ask him not to. He slides in next to me, arms wrapping around my shuddering frame. He holds me tighter than anyone has ever before, and I hope he will never let go. In his arms I feel safe and secure, knowing he will never let anyone harm me. Even though right now I am leaning against his strong chest, breathing in his warm scent, I cannot relax completely. There is one more thing I need to get off my chest, one last thing I need to know, before I let my self relax. 

‘Howard… I love you.’ 

He doesn’t laugh, and that’s the difference between us. I laughed, but he didn’t. He forgives so easily, is prepared to forget everything. But I can’t forget, and I think it pains him. He pulls me even closer, so our bodies are flushed together, almost merging under the sheets. He brings his head down, to whisper in my ear. Four words that make everything okay, and make my head spin. 

‘I love you too.’


	2. Howard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same day, but from the opposing point of view

**1 AM  
** They say you have the weirdest dreams when you’re stressed, so, if it’s the truth, I must be the most stressed man in England, because right now I’m standing in the middle of Top Shop without any clothes on. People aren’t taking any notice of me, just continuing their shopping. I spot Vince by a clothes rack, but when I call to him he doesn’t turn around. I try to move towards him but I can’t. My voice is going hoarse from yelling his name, but he’s ignoring me. He won’t take any notice, and suddenly I realise tears are rolling down my cheeks. But Vince still won’t turn around.

**2 AM**   
When I wake my pillow is damp; tears are still clinging to my skin. I wipe them away furiously. I shouldn’t get so worked up, but when I’m asleep there’s nothing I can do about it. Even when I know it’s a dream it still hurts. I roll over to check on Vince, but his bed is empty. Again. He never sleeps anymore. He won’t eat either. He’ll be in the living room at the moment. I don’t know exactly what he does this early in the morning, but he always falls asleep before I get their, and the flat always looks tidier than I remember.   
  
**3 AM**   
I must have fallen asleep again, because the clock hands have moved considerably. I used to sleep really heavily, but now I lie awake, listening for sounds of Vince. I can hear faint movements, but nothing alarming, so I leave him alone. That must be what he wants.   
  
**4 AM**   
Eventually Vince goes quiet and I assume he has fallen asleep. Even under my duvet I can tell the flat is cold, so I make my way into the hall. Sure enough Vince is curled up on the couch. I automatically find a blanket and wrap it around him, tucking it in. He looks so vulnerable, I want to just lay down with him and hold him close. But I don’t. Instead I turn the heating up, but the hot water on and make two drinks. When I go back into the living room with a hot chocolate for Vince, he is still asleep, but he’s restless, tossing and turning on the couch, mumbling words I can’t understand. I want to wake him so badly, but I can’t because he might think I’ve been watching him. So I just tuck the blanket around further and go back the bedroom.   
  
**5 AM**   
The water pipes are rumbling, and it’s a horrible sound but I’m so used to it it’s almost soothing. I wish Vince would come back upstairs, but I know he won’t. He only ventures back up here to take a shower, whilst I make him a breakfast he never eats. But right now, I would give anything to have him tucked up next to me, so I could wrap my arms around him and whisper in his eras how much he means to me.   
  
**6 AM**   
I hear his feet pad past my door, and the bathroom door clicks shut. After a few more minutes the shower comes on and he steps underneath it. If I listen hard enough I can almost hear his breathing. I let the sound of running water wash over, and don’t move until he turns the shower off.   
  
**7 AM**   
I hurriedly get dressed, while I can still hear Vince faffing in the bathroom, doing his hair and make up. Not that he needs it, but for some reason he thinks he does.   
  
**8 AM**   
I spend ages making breakfast for Vince, even though I know he won’t eat it. I do it every morning though. I don’t know why I bother, but I can’t help myself.   
  
**9 AM**   
Vince seems to be taking his time this morning. He’s broken out of the habit of being incredibly late every morning; now he’s always down here before nine. The breakfast is ready, and the kettle is boiled, so I make him a cup of tea.   
  
**10 AM**   
I stare at him like he’s gone insane when he enters the kitchen. His thin frame is draped in one of my shirts, and it completely drowns him.   


‘Vince?’   


He doesn’t say anything, so I warily hand him his breakfast. He takes it, thankfully and we both sit down. He doesn’t touch the food, but he drinks the tea, so I guess I can’t ask for everything. I can’t help but keep looking at him. He looks so odd, so different, and yet still completely gorgeous. Even though it’s such a weird thing for him to do, it’s an oddly touching gesture. I feel my heart spilt a little bit more.   
  
**11 AM**   
We spent the rest of the morning in an uncomfortable silence; mostly because I can’t think of anything t say to him. It’s sad how much we’ve changed. Conversation used to come so easily to us, but now everything we do is stilted, as though it will soon come to an end.   
  
**12 PM**   
I offer him lunch but he refuses. I want to force him, but he looks so vulnerable in my shirt that I just can’t. I don’t make myself lunch either. I don’t really feel like eating, and I know it’s a bad example to Vince, but I really don’t. I’m not sure where this whole eating thing has come from, for either of us. But I think it’s strangely connected to my dream.   
  
**1 PM**   
He hasn’t spoken to me all morning, even though I keep trying to make chances at conversation. It feels as though our little world is collapsing.   
  
**2 PM**   
I make some popcorn and we sit down to watch a film together. Its  _Casablanca_ one of Vince’s favourites, so I allow our silence to take over, and we watch the film together and I think that maybe some glue will come to stick us back together.   
  
**3 PM**   
He’s moved closer to me during the film, and right now we’re shoulder to shoulder. But it feels alright, and I’m certainly not going to do anything to stop this contact. At least, not until the film finishes.   
  
**4 PM**   
The movies over now, and it’s suddenly much quieter than ever before. To my surprise Vince speaks. It seems so long since I’ve heard his voice.   


‘Howard…’   


‘Yes little man?’   


It feels nice to call him that again. He doesn’t reply and I almost go to press him on it, but then I realise, the silence has gone. We’re not actually saying anything, but the air is lighter.   
  
**5 PM**   
We play  _Monopoly_ , and manage to say a few words to each other. Naboo and Bollo come in, carrying shopping. Well Bollo is, at any rate. I’d forgotten they’d gone out, but now I’m suddenly aware, that it had just been me and Vince, and we could have done anything. Once Bollo has put everything away, Vince and I decide we’ve had enough of the game. I don’t realise Vince had slipped away until I’ve put the board away.   
  
**6 PM**   
I try to find Vince, but he’s no where to be seen. I can’t help but wonder if he’s left me, if I did something to upset him, but I push these thoughts away and continue my search, like it’s a game of hide and seek. The suddenly I realise.  _The roof._   
  
**7 PM**   
I can’t think why he’s chosen to come out here, but when I push the flap open he’s hunched up, all alone.   


‘Can I join you?’   


He nods, and I let out a sigh I didn’t realise I had, sitting close to him, without releasing how close, until I realise I can feel him shivering next to me.   


‘You look cold. Here.’   


I take off my jacket, ignoring the chills and wrap it around his shoulders.   


‘Th-thank you.’   


His voice sound different, but it still sends a shiver down my spine, which I know has nothing to do with the cold.   


‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’   


I look across the city, at the setting sun.   


‘Yeah, it is.’   


His voice is so delicate it makes me break inside to think that he might be hurting, even though I don’t know what from. But at the moment I’m so pleased that we’re happy in each other presence. He makes me feel whole again. With him I feel complete. With him I feel loved.   
  
**8 PM**   
It’s beginning to get cold, so, with a last fleeting look over the rooftops, we retreat inside. I yawn, suddenly realising just how tired I am. Vince goes into the bathroom and I walk back into the kitchen. This is how it is every evening now, we barely talk, just make sure that neither of us get in the others way. Once I’ve cleaned the counters I go towards the bathroom, and stand outside; not sure if I’m allowed in, but too chicken to just knock.   


‘You can come in.’   


I jump at his voice. I didn’t think that he’d heard me standing there. The door creaks and I poke my head through the gap. Vince is only standing by the sink, so I move over to join him. Our hands brush as we simultaneously reach for our toothbrushes. My hand lingers just too long; he’ll be able to work out something’s happening. I don’t want to let anything on, not when we’ve just rekindled our friendship.   
  
**9 PM**   
I bring him a warm mug of milk, and wordlessly put it on his bedside table. He smiles at me and I return it, trying to tell him all of my emotions in that small gesture. I can’t tell if it’s worked or not, because he climbs under his covers, and rolls so he’s facing the wall. I flick the light off and face my wall. With a sigh I close my eyes and try to fall asleep.   
  
**10 PM**   
I’ve fallen asleep, because I’m back in the dream. It’s exactly the same as always, it never changes. He never turns around, and it always breaks my heart. I can’t stand it anymore.   
  
**11 PM**   
Vince is moaning in his sleep again, I can hear him turning over, wrapping the sheets around his slim figure. I want to wake him and tell him that it’ll all be okay, but I can’t. Or maybe it’s that I won’t. I’m scared. Frightened that he’ll reject me, and I couldn’t live with that. He lets out a strangled moan and it rips through my heart. I sit up, concerned, looking over at him. His face looks scrunched up, as though he’s in pain. Sweat is dripping form his forehead, but I still can’t wake him. I hate me self for it, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why I can’t help my friend.   
  
**12 AM**   
His breathing changes and I can tell he’s now awake.   


‘Vince?’   


When he doesn’t reply I can’t not get out of bed. Without asking, I move towards his bed, and slip in under the covers. I wrap my arms around his shaking body. I squeeze him against me, hugging him for all it’s worth. I want him to know that I am here, I will always protect him. He leans back against me and takes a deep breath in. He lets it out, and then says something I wasn’t expecting.   


‘Howard… I love you.’   


I’m shocked. I can’t say a word. I don’t know what to say. So I just wrap my arms tighter around him, and it feels like we are fussing together. Realising I haven’t given an answer, I duck my head down towards his hear, and whisper something that I hope will let him realise I understand. Something that I should have told him months ago, before all of this started.   


‘I love you too.’


End file.
